Children
by Kettricken
Summary: Set just after The Blue Spirit. Iroh debriefs Zuko after another failed kidnapping of the Avatar. Is Zuko redeemable, or does the damage wrought by his father run too deep?


When he was younger, Iroh had nurtured a profound and queasy dislike of boats. These days, he liked to imagine that his earlier feeling had been a sort of premonition; a psychic dread over the fact that he would have to spend the years of his wisdom and maturity on deck and below. All his seasickness had been long spent, though, on those endless raids of his youth. The troops that were sent wave upon wave to the beaches of Earth and Water, packed into shivering holds belowdecks to stew in their own nerves and bluster; perhaps it had been the tension of the time, a tension for young men. A tension he could now literally see in the tendons of his nephew's neck, as Zuko stood at attention before him in the cabin.

"Tea, nephew?"

The neck clenched. Zuko's head turned away.

"I had him, uncle," he said. "For three whole days, I - alone- made him my captive. No-one else can say that much, not Zhao-- not even my father."

Iroh pushed the tea across the desk, hoping the boy would take it instead of the praise he clearly wanted. Zuko's words came from self-hatred and misgivings; to praise him now would, paradoxically, weaken him further. Also, Iroh reflected, the hot water might relax his muscles a little.

"Three days alone with him?" Iroh sipped from his own cup, letting the motion of the boat make little waves in the tea. "A good opportunity for information. Catching Aang will be much easier next time. What did you learn?"

Zuko's eyes flickered. "Nothing of importance. Aang is a child. He understands nothing; so there is nothing to learn from him."

Iroh looked up over the rim of the cup. "Tell me anyway," he said.

AVA-----------AVA

Zuko had awakened on the second day after leaving the ship to find his money stolen and his food supplies ripped open. The latest bounty hunter, Jouk, was, of course, gone as well-- his passing obscured with the precision of a professional. Zuko was alone, two days' march into a featureless grassland, and his jerky was covered with hornets.

Zuko, still addlepated with sleep but already infuriated, shot a quick jet of fire at the food satchel; a few flaming hornets trailed crazy firefly streaks across the morning sky before falling, but the majority were crisped immediately, as was the beef jerky. A small scent of charred beef wafted into the open sky. Cursing, Zuko gingerly peeled the edges of burnt satchel away. The meat was ruined. The cheese had become integrated with the fabric of the bag. Only a few apples were salveagable. Perfectly baked, in fact.

Zuko ate them, morosely, burning his tongue. The anger was melting away to annoyance--what kind of idiot possessed the foolish audacity to attack a sleeping firebender? Did the fool set no value on his own limbs? Throwing the cores into the grass, Zuko began walking. He left the ruined, smoking mess behind him in the spring grasses. A firebender had no need for scavengers' pickings. A firebender was a hunter. And Zuko still had a quarry.

The Avatar's movements had become less haphazard of late, as if he had found a new resolution. Less random meant more predictable-- more easily intercepted. Jouk had been a local terrain expert, and a strong fighter; but Zuko hadn't spent more than two years shipboard without learning a few useful skills. The stars were the same on prairie as on ocean.

The grasses ran waist-high, but they were pale, mettleless things, not like the sawgrass that ran along the beaches where they were accustomed to dock. Zuko stalked forward with a purpose, keeping one eye to the high skies. A flying bison was not an easy thing to hide on a clear day, especially when one had a good idea of its likely whereabouts. He had paused to take a short rest when he caught sight of a speck off to the east; staying low, quiet, Zuko watched the air bison sail serenely overhead, then dip toward the westerly sun, disappearing behind a rolling hill. Zuko leapt up, doubling over for cover in the short grasses, and began to run. His heart was racing; there was no strain in his body, as if it had been only poised and waiting for this moment, unbeknownst to itself.

It took him until nightfall to find the camp. The Avatar had chosen a beautiful spot, the kind that would be obvious for miles from the air, but perhaps never found by other means; a lake nested between hills of grassland, low trees huddled against its shore for moisture. Huddled against the base of the trees were three sleeping figures. The obnoxious boy, and the waterbender; names he had never bothered to know. And Aang.

(To be entirely fair, of course, there was also an enormous bison.)

Zuko's heart beat in his throat. Patience, patience, he reminded himself; a soldier's patience. Look for it. Wait for it. He went to the shore of the lake, drank deeply, filled his flagon and picked up a round, smooth stone that fit well in his palm; then began to pace the outskirts of the camp, slowly and methodically, until he found their half-dug latrine. He sat, feeling the weight of his weapon.

When the opportunity came, some hours into the night, he let the Avatar relieve himself before he knocked him out and ran into the night.

AVAAVA

It was midmorning and muggy when Zuko felt the boy slung across his shoulders begin to stir.

"Don't even think about trying to Bend," Zuko said. "I tied your hands and feet."

Aang's furious exhalation hit him without warning on the side of the head, boxing his ear. Zuko's head rang, and he staggered; he had already grown dizzy from the exertion of running and lack of food. He let Aang slip, trying to blink the greyness from his vision-- saw the boy worming frantically in a nest of grasses, readying himself for a second blow. Zuko sidestepped, reeling like a drunk; sent a spurt of flame to strike the grasses beside the Avatar, who rolled away onto his stomach. Zuko quickly straddled him, sat on his back, and boxed both of his ears.

Aang yelped, and Zuko, balance still unsteady, pulled him back across his shoulders.

"That was a nice little game," he said. "Want to play again? What's next, scream for your friends? I'd love to knock you out again. It might kill you, but you're easier to carry that way."

From the sudden lack of wriggling against his back, Aang was considering it. Zuko stepped up the pace. He had taken a different direction through the grassland on impulse, and had been lucky. There was forest and cover ahead. True, the water tribe siblings were no threat, but still he felt exposed, even criminal; as if the sky was watching him.

Aang chose that moment to scream.

Zuko had a younger sister. He had also heard men being tortured by fire. He had thought he understood the capacity of the human lungs.

Zuko had never experienced the lungs of an Airbender.

Wave upon wave of concentrated sound battered his eardrums, careened across the landscape carried on eddies and gusts of wind-- just before he passed out in reflexive sensory self-defense, he realized he'd been too careless: everything within 10 miles would have heard that scream.

AVAAVA

Zuko woke without transition, with a start and the breathless panic of disorientation. Quickly he gauged the position of the sun in the sky-- how long? And the Avatar, where was the Avatar!

"You can get up now," said a voice from underneath him.

Zuko strained his neck. He had fallen onto his back into the soft grasses; Aang was pinned underneath. The Avatar looked... bored.

"How long was I asleep?" Zuko cursed the question as it left his mouth. You don't show weakness to the prey.

"Eh, about two hours," Aang said. "I figured you needed it, or I would've poked you earlier. I've got a headache. Do you have any water?"

Zuko pulled himself to his knees. His own headache was courtesy of Aang; but after drinking himself, he tipped some water into his captive's mouth. "No-one came for you," he stated.

"Nah. I screamed a whole bunch after you went down," Aang smiled proudly. "They must be pretty far the wrong way, looking for me. Appa's fast when he's motivated."

Zuko stood. He was still famished, but he no longer felt so dizzy; the discipline of the soldier's long march was returning to his body.

"So by the way--where are we going?" Aang asked, allowing himself to be hauled up once more.

"To the Fire Lord."

"Really? But when you broke me out last time... I thought you decided not to let the Fire Nation have me."

"Idiot," Zuko said dispassionately. "That's exactly where I want you. But I have to be the one to make the catch."

"Oh."

Aang was quiet just long enough for Zuko to slip back into the loose awareness of the long march, when he piped up once more:

"Why?"

Zuko missed a beat in his jogging, and grimaced. "Can't you be quiet?" he snapped.

"I don't see why I should," Aang said. "I'm a prisoner. You aren't going to let me go if I don't, or anything. What else am I supposed to do?"

"I could gag you."

Aang ignored this. "So, um... I always wondered. How did you get burnt like that? That looks really nasty."

"None of your business," Zuko snapped.

They had come under the trees; the footing, paradoxically, was easier-- obstructed by roots and stones, but at least Zuko could see his own feet. He picked up speed. A change in direction, and he would make camp. The sun would be setting soon. Aang, after a momentary pause, had begun to prattle on about himself instead of asking Zuko questions-- old acquaintances that Zuko reminded him of, favorite places and things to do, newer stories about Sokka and Katara. Katara. Sokka. Katarakatarakatara(sokka)katara. There was no more avoiding those names; every other word out of his mouth was about his friends. As he scouted for a campsite, Zuko found himself growing more and more sour; he didn't care for assinine stories. This was the bender who fought him to a standstill in every match? This was the best the Avatar could find to occupy his time?

Without realizing his own instincts, Zuko suddenly ducked and kicked fiercely into the air; fire shot off to the right, silencing Aang with a sudden "whoa!".

In the silence that followed, the leaves set alight by Zuko's bending crackled, slowly going out.

A smoldering squirrel fell from the branch.

"...oh boy," Aang said nervously. "Dinner?"

Zuko was fanatically careful about the camp for the night; occluding branches, proximity to foul-smelling skunk cabbage to mask the odor; he ate greedily, sparing only a few bites for his prisoner. It wasn't greed; Aang wasn't going to have to walk the next day. Zuko was. He repeated this to himself as Aang's face grew darker, upon receiving his own portion, which he refused to eat. So the Avatar was stubborn after all.

Zuko was desperately tired. As he ate he caught his head drooping several times; each time he lifted it again he could see that Aang was watching him, the meat untouched in front of him, unmoving-- just watching.

When he had finished eating and cleaned the campfire, Aang's eyes never leaving him, Zuko slowly and deliberately searched dug out another heavy stone. Aang protested, tried to get away, even cried-- just a little; but the fatigue lay so heavily on him that Zuko could not take any risks. Sparing the bruise that was already purple against blue arrow on the back of Aang's head, he ensured that his captive would not escape while he slept.

AVAAVA

On the second day, sullenly, Aang did not speak at all. His weight lay like a corpse against Zuko's neck. Zuko had not realized the degree to which the boy's liveliness had broken his stride, the day before; on this day, he fell into the rhythm of the thing, the human being he bore like a simple gunny sack. Thus left to his own mind, the import of the past two days finally began to sink in: he had captured the Avatar. There was no pursuit. He would reach Iroh and his ship in a matter of days; he would return to the Fire Nation triumphant. His exile would end. His father--

Zuko lengthened his stride.

He was confident enough that, after dinner, he loosened the bonds on the Avatar's wrists just slightly, to check for chafing. If he was going to do the thing, he would do it properly; there was no need for savagery. Aang's skin was raw, but not yet broken. Zuko shifted the position of the rope, and retied it. Aang had also lost one of his sandals during the march. Aggravated, Zuko began to rummage through his remaining supplies-- before realizing that, of course, it didn't matter. The Avatar might never walk outside under his own power again.

"Are you going to hit me again?" Aang asked slowly. It was the first time he had spoken all day; the words sounded strangely tired.

Zuko turned to him, and before Aang could react, forced an eyelid open. The boy struggled, then stopped as quickly, resignation written all across him.

"Don't move," Zuko ordered. He called a small flame to his fingertip, squinting at Aang's eye. The left pupil contracted normally; the right was perhaps a touch slower. Or was he imagining it?

"Avatar," he said, sharply. "You have already learned to bend water, correct?"

"Um... yes," Aang eyed him suspiciously.

"The water in my flask is warm. Can you make it colder?"

"If you let me have my arms, I can," Aang looked a little more alert; his eyes narrowed.

Zuko bent to untie the rope-- and recognized the quick, circling motions of the Airbender techinque. He struck Aang's arms down, roughly. "No," he ordered. "Waterbending. Did you think I couldn't tell them apart? Don't take me lightly."

With a bitter hatred in his eyes, Aang moved again-- this time, instantly turning the flask to ice.

"Enjoy your nice cold water," he said spitefully. "In a couple hours when it thaws."

Zuko was already binding his hands again. "Just what I needed," he said. "Lie down. Keep this against your head. Your bruise is swelling too much."

Aang's eyes widened.

"You don't have to spite me by not eating," he added.

"...I'm not," Aang said. "I don't eat meat."

This was perturbing. Opinions were a luxury that prisoners should not be afforded.

"You will if you want to survive," Zuko tried.

Aang blinked; looked at the roast bird, then away again, stomach rumbling. "Uh... I'm not going to eat it." His eyes were open, though, begging the unanswered question.

"No, I'm not going to hit you tonight," Zuko said, contemptuously. "You squeal like a baby. It's unbefitting to the Avatar."

After a moment of Aang's shocked silence, Zuko sighed. "Well, go to sleep," he said, feeling thoroughly irritable. "Don't expect me to sleep first. I'll know if you're faking, and I wake up before dawn."

He almost expected Aang to thank him; but the boy didn't, instead dropping off to sleep almost immediately. Resignedly, Zuko sat himself beside the Avatar, watching his breathing carefully. Aang was his prize; if he were truly concussed, then he was at risk to slip into a coma-- not the worst result, from the position of the Fire Nation, but certainly not the proud offering Zuko wanted to make-- or even to die. Unacceptable.

Zuko was struck, for the first time, by the frailty of the body in front of him. He had fought Aang several times; had come to see him as an incarnate of intangible air, an equal and opposite reaction to his own predicament; something not quite human at all. And after all, Aang was the avatar: an Other force, that only breathed through this mortal shell. But right now the only thing he saw breathing was Aang.

He watched the thin chest rise and fall, rise and fall. The night deepened around them. Twice the Avatar mumbled in his sleep; the words were incoherent, revealing nothing of his plans; the only thing Zuko could pick out were the names "Katara", or perhaps "Roku". Once, when Aang seemed particularly quiet, he carefully placed his hand in front of the boy's nose, until he felt the faint ethereal pressure against his palm; the Airbender's breath.

When Aang woke at dawn, he found Zuko still sitting several feet away, staring into space.

That day Zuko started answering the Airbender's questions.

"Yes, the Fire Lord is my father," he said imperiously, "As you probably know. Your capture will bring me favor."

"I'm glad it makes somebody happy," Aang sulked. "Could we please stop a minute? There was blueberry bush back there..."

"Pick berries on your own time, Airbender," Zuko said. "Oh, wait-- you're tied up at the moment..."

"Ha, ha, ha. How come you're in such a good mood?"

"I know the terrain today," Zuko replied. "We'll be at the ship sooner than I thought. Tonight, or maybe tomorrow morning."

In a small voice: "...oh."

Then: "Zuko... what are they going to do to me?"

Zuko considered this as he ran. "Doesn't matter," he decided. "You'll be kept alive. Someday, I'll be emperor of the Fire Nation. Then I'll decide your fate myself."

"So then... what are you going to do to me?"

This was a new thought; but as quickly as he asked himself, Zuko knew the answer. He stretched his lips taut across his teeth. Aang wouldn't see this-- this contorted expression that was Zuko's pleasure. "I'll chain you to the mast of a ship, and make it sail all around the known world," Zuko said. "You can never make port when the others go on shore leave or get supplies; you will live out your life and die on that little ship. That's justice for the pain you've caused me."

"I caused?"

Zuko bit his lip. He had nearly let his shame slip. Shame was power; he meant to remove all power from the Avatar, not give him more leverage. He turned left. A breeze was stirring through the trees.

"Zuko..." Aang's voice sounded distant. "Zuko. I'm sorry."

He was opening his mouth to respond in anger, when the wind boxed his ear again, and suddenly Aang was on his feet-- the ankle-rope dangling from one foot-- and then the Airbender was jumping, quick as a flushed sparrow, up into the trees.

Zuko wheeled, roaring his rage, and with the breath of his shout, fire sprang from his hands at the small, retreating figure, who dodged nimbly, darted aside--

and then, abruptly, took the third shot on the shoulder.

Aang plummeted motionless from the high branches. Perhaps unconscious in the agony of the burn. Zuko's pulse beat painfully in his scar. He thrust a hand out as Aang fell past him, flipping the other boy so that he would not land on his head. Aang fell onto his knees, then his unwounded shoulder; his teeth were clenched, one hand hovering above the burn, as if afraid to touch it. Zuko was not certain whether or not he was sobbing.

He stripped the cloth abruptly from the injury, pouring water from the flask to clean it. "Did you think it wouldn't hurt?" he heard himself saying. "Did you think you were some kind of invincible, the great Avatar-- immortal? Did you think I wouldn't do it?" He was babbling, why was he babbling? He plunged his hand into the pouch at his waist.

"It hurts," was all Aang could say, through clenched teeth. "Hurts. I... ngg." He was shaking; sweat beaded at his temples, and on his upper lip. The boy would be feverish by nightfall. Zuko scrabbled for the little glass jar of burn ointment- standard gear for practicing Firebenders; quickly, he slathered it against the reddening flesh of Aang's shoulder.

"Now you know what it means to fight the Fire Nation," he said. "So now, you understand why you have to come quietly."

"rggh-- can't," Aang cried out, through chattering teeth. "ngg...'m... Avatar!" Zuko moved to the ankle rope. Aang must have untied it with his bare foot. An oversight; regrettable, but easy to adjust for.

"Avatar Aang," Zuko said, jerking the rope. "The great. Who thinks he can escape from Firebenders with his arms still tied. Whose friends deserted him."

"That's not true," Aang said, his voice clearer now. The chattering had stopped. "They wouldn't betray me. They just haven't found me yet!"

Zuko looked up. "That's true," he said. "Your friends are too stupid to betray you. They will try to rescue you; and they'll be killed for you. Can you live with that, Avatar?"

"They know what they're doing," Aang said. "Don't you dare call them stupid just because they do what's right!"

The air was picking up again, tickling the stray hairs at the back of Zuko's neck. "You're such a child!" he yelled. Aang's face reddened; Zuko could feel his own heart pounding. He felt like a bully. "Sacrificing your friends for some impossible goal-- how is that right? Playing with people's lives, and people's destinies, as if the consequences that fall out of it are all going to be washed over when you reach the finish? How many people have to be ruined to save the world, Avatar?"

"I don't know," Aang shouted. "I just know I have to do it! It doesn't matter!"

"And that's why you're a child," Zuko said, furious now. "You don't think. You have no idea what consequences mean. You don't even know what betrayal is. You're an arrogant, immature--"

"That's not fair," Aang retorted. "I know all about that stuff; I oAughh!" he cut off in a strangulated yelp of pain, as Zuko lightly ran a fingernail across the burn.

"There," Zuko said. The anger was washing out of him, satisfied by the enemy's pain. The way of the soldier. "Someday you are going to live in that pain. Then maybe-- maybe-- you will be old enough to speak to me."

Aang's eyes went wide. He had been breathing quickly, first in pain, then in the heat of the argument; now he began to still, even as Zuko's own breath continued hot. High above them in the trees, a little leftover fire from Zuko's attack gave a crack as it smoldered; a fragment of charred leaf fell.

"What happened to you?" Aang said, quietly.

"Didn't I tell you not to speak to me?" Zuko replied, his voice rising again in anger-- but even as he said the words, the Avatar was rising, his hands parting, revealing--

revealing the charred ends of the rope that had tied his wrists.

As Zuko started up, trying to regain balance and composure, his mind racing to grasp the situation- his own attack, it had severed in one of his own attacks- the burnt end of the rope flew forward, striking him painfully in the eye; Aang's feet were still half-untied, and before Zuko could force his eyelid to open, flailing wild, Aang ducked down and pulled off the second rope. The full gust of an Airbending attack took Zuko in the side; and he fell to his knees, scraping the length of the forest floor at the back of a gale, striking his shoulder against the tough bark of an oak; Aang was almost out of sight by the time Zuko pulled himself up. Without a thought Zuko sprang after him, racing across the same ground he'd traversed that morning, Aang a disappearing orange presence in front of him, then only his own imagining of that presense-- Zuko ran, faster and faster, leaping rocks and gnarled ground, breath beating in his throat; it couldn't have happened. He couldn't have lost him. His chest was aching; the light had gone golden, and he was no longer certain of the trail. Still running, Zuko drew his breath in, and sent the fire before him; but his mind was in a thousand places , his breath shallow and powerless; and even the fire guttered and stopped, as if unsure as to what was wanted of it.

Zuko stopped, listening to the sound of the blood in his ears, the breath gasping to fill his lungs; there was only this, and the empty forest.

AVAAVA

"I could not find his trail, so I returned to the ship, as of last midnight," Zuko finished, looking straight ahead. "But you would not see me until this morning."

A note of reprobation in his nephew's voice made Iroh raise an eyebrow.

"It didn't seem that urgent," Iroh said. "But if all you brought back was the knowledge that the Avatar is a child, I think you have wasted all of our time, not least of all my time this morning. We knew this already."

Zuko drew a shuddering breath, calming himself. "Uncle," he said. "If you do not have anything more to say, I will go and train."

"Did you consider letting him die?" Iroh interrupted, his eyes far away. The shock on Zuko's face told him all he needed to know. Silently, a little hope settled into Iroh's stomach; he sipped his tea with a certain satisfaction. Zuko had not considered letting the Aang die; he was confused, and young, but he still retained his moral compass. He would not even think to kill an innocent child. All Iroh had to do was breathe a little life onto the sparks-- provoke a reaction, a self awareness beneath the layers of confusion. Iroh steadied his hand on the teacup. "Really? I would have thought you would be more practical. With Aang dead, we'd need to start fresh, it's true; but so would Zhao, and you're younger. Also, the next Avatar would be a Waterbender. We've eliminated most of those clans, and a Bender raised on the run would not have time to master the techniques as well. He would be a less formidable opponent."

The shock on Zuko's face had turned to thoughtfulness. Iroh sipped his tea and watched that expression change to wonderment.

"Yes," Zuko said. The tension in him, the failure riding his neck, had relaxed. "Next time, I could kill him. I could claim it as an accident..." he looked up, a new determination in his eyes. "Uncle. Why did you not order this when we first had the Avatar in custody?"

Iroh leaned back, his stomach sinking again. "Oh-- not important now," he said. "Think no more of it." Perhaps one couldn't force every answer directly. Time and example, Iroh reminded himself.

"Your tea must be cold," Zuko said, almost eagerly. "I could warm it for you."

"Don't bother, don't bother. It'll only get cold again." Iroh smiled. "Cold tea is good sometimes, too."

Zuko looked skeptical.

"Go on, train, as you'd like," Iroh said, waving a hand at his nephew. "I have a morning nap to see to." Then, thinking twice: "Oh, but Zuko." His nephew paused at the door to the cabin, frowning now, confused again. "I asked you whether you considered killing him. It's a soldier's question. Princes and generals-- we have the privilege, and the duty, to ask another kind of question. You did not even consider killing Aang. And I did not order it." Iroh sipped his tea, keeping his eye on his nephew.

He stared for several seconds, until Zuko's impatience reached his mouth. "What's the question?"

"Oh, that?" Iroh put down the cup, all innocence. "Well, I thought you knew it. After all, you already asked it to me."

"I... what???"

"You asked me why."

"You refused to answer me!"

"Because you were asking the wrong person." Iroh sighed, smoothing his shirt with some irritation. He had allowed Zuko's temper to steer the conversation into a confrontation; anger was contagious- anger and confusion, steeping through the wooden sides of the cabin and Iroh's tea and Iroh's reasoning.

"Uncle, you're not making sense."

Iroh grimaced. "Then ignore me. I'm only an old man. Just... go practice your breathing."

Iroh did not tell Zuko that he, too, was only a child: by the time Zuko understood, the very realization would have made it no longer true. Some lessons could not be spoken; they inhabited people like second souls, lying over them, perhaps never realized, or perhaps vanishing in the moment they were grasped. Just as some children simply vanish into their futures; just as some drown in their pasts, letting time wash over them in unremarked waves.

The tea had gone cold after all. Iroh drank it quickly, grimacing at the bitterness.


End file.
